


Can't Hug Every Cat

by 2towels



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But softly, Cat Lover Lance (Voltron), Damsel in Distress Lance (Voltron), Flustered Keith (Voltron), Flustered Lance (Voltron), Gay Disaster the Fic, I cannot emphasize enough how much Lance loves his cats, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance loves cats, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pets, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Protective Keith (Voltron), Slow Burn, i'm making it a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 14:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15003251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2towels/pseuds/2towels
Summary: “That’s—She’s Comet.” Keith answers because Comet obviously won’t. She makes a shuffling noise, anyway. In his staring, he catches sight of a thin leash around the man’s wrist as well, and he feels a lift in his ribs as he thinks about the chances of meeting him again if he walks his own dog here often. He’s cute enough despite their meeting for Keith to want to think that. It’s an okay thought, and he’s petting Comet so lovingly he aches for another encounter. He follows the leash’s thin cord, noting how much longer it seems to be than where Keith’s adjustable one is situated at the moment, and when he reaches the end he meets the cool amber stare of the man’s pet. He blurts, “Is that a cat?” like an idiot.--Five cats Lance introduces to Keith, and one Keith can introduce to Lance.Alternatively Titled: Dog Days Are Over





	Can't Hug Every Cat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmeme/gifts).



> Title is from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sP4NMoJcFd4) old gem of course
> 
> I love Keith's new wolf so much please let me indulge myself by writing eighteen thousand words about how she would wingman him in getting Lance to fall for him thanks for coming to my ted talk

                Keith is fifteen minutes late to meet Romelle and he knows that not because he’s checked his watch but because his beautiful and trustworthy husky had reared her head up at him to level him with something muted and omnipotent in her big blue eyes, a look that only appeared when Keith was late and she somehow knew in all of her infinite dog wisdom.

                “She’ll forgive us.” He grouches, ignoring the snuffing sounds his girl gives in return and looking away to make sure he doesn’t bowl over anyone else in the Sunday morning fog, a feat he immediately fails at. Just as he’s within the archway of Arus Park, he slams bodily into a thin frame—one that goes sprawling onto the ground instantly.

                “Oh, shit—” A low voice murmurs and Keith whips his head down to extend a hand to the man he’d just assaulted. His angel is restless, trotting around behind him in a semi-circle and watching the exchange with the slightest tug of her leash. The man looks comfortable in sweats and a hoodie, his slides askew from his feet likely from the fall, and he’s rubbing his face with one hand. “Dude, watch where you’re going.” Keith feels the twitch and urge to retract his hand but wasn’t raised by Takashi Shirogane to end up with no manners even when others present none, so he keeps it firmly outstretched.

                The man’s hand lowers from his face, and Keith finds himself absolutely obliterated by the gaze that catches his, a ruffled and warm smile aimed straight into his wrenching chest. “Places to be, much?” He asks lazily, taking Keith’s hand finally and lugging himself up while Keith’s suddenly unprepared, stumbling a little despite the other being maybe ten ounces and a really pathetic excuse of an anchor.

                “Yeah.” Keith flushes out anyway, “Sorry about that. You alright?” Their grips are a firm handshake in one another neither have dropped, and there’s something coy in the other guy’s smile that makes Keith feel like he’s being played with, so when he feels the leash at his wrist get tugged at he lets it bode a distraction. He gives a short whistle and his sweet girl takes a moment of teasing and pretending to be unaffected before finding his side, sitting calmly.

                “Yeah—Um, who is this sweet and beautiful angel?” The guy’s eyes are huge suddenly, looking at Keith’s dog, and he feels his chest puff up stupidly as the man crouches and holds his hands open wide with a look upwards and confirmation before he beings letting the gorgeous husky sniff them. It was always nice to find polite dog petters. It made something worldly stir in Keith’s gut that let him know maybe everyone wasn’t so bad. The guy is cooing, hands gentle and slow as they comb through the mane of hair at Keith’s dog’s neck, and Keith realizes he’s asking for her name.

                “That’s—She’s Comet.” Keith answers because Comet obviously won’t. She makes a shuffling noise, anyway. In his staring, he catches sight of a thin leash around the man’s wrist as well, and he feels a lift in his ribs as he thinks about the chances of meeting him again if he walks his own dog here often. He’s cute enough despite their meeting for Keith to want to think that. It’s an okay thought, and he’s petting Comet so lovingly he aches for another encounter. He follows the leash’s thin cord, noting how much longer it seems to be than where Keith’s adjustable one is situated at the moment, and when he reaches the end he meets the cool amber stare of the man’s pet. He blurts, “Is that a cat?” like an idiot.

                “Like in Full House?” The man blinks quickly and jerks to the end of his leash, as if double checking there’s still something there, and he beams wide and warm. “Why, yes, it is!” He stands again, scooping the demure cat into his thin hands and kissing it on the head. “Got a problem with that? No rules that say dogs only.” He seems defensive suddenly, and Keith wonders in what particular circumstance he may have ever been in that warranted him needing to defend his right to walk his cat on a Sunday morning. The cat’s content and tame, slipping its eyes closed as the man scratches behind its ears a moment and popping them back open to stare directly at Keith as soon as the man is finished. Elegantly, it walks up the man’s arm onto his shoulder and perches.

                “No.” Keith remembers to say, belatedly, caught in a weird staring contest with the red tabby. He opens his mouth to say something else that makes no sense, but before he can the cat launches itself onto his shoulder instead, and Keith jumps.

                “Oh.” The man says as Comet jumps onto her hind legs and barks up at the cat shoving its face into Keith’s wild bed head, “She likes you.”

                Comet leads with her paws to lean on Keith’s chest, a whine in the back of her throat, and Keith tries to steady her by rubbing at her snout and giving her another familiar whistle. The man’s beautiful hand brushes against Keith’s as it scratches behind Comet’s ear, and Keith jerks his own away despite it being his dog so he can try to get the cat up and off of his person. It works to get Comet down a minute, at least.

                “That’s Red, by the way.” The man says to Comet, smiling again. “She’s not very friendly but once she decides she likes you, you’ve got her for life. You liked her just a second ago, Comet, don’t get all huffy now that she likes your best friend a little.” He pecks Comet’s snout and Comet lets him so Keith stares, limp cat in his outstretched hands. If the man wasn’t wearing sweatpants or tethered to a cat by a string of a leash and harness Keith would imagine the scene in a painting, his dog bowed down so gracefully and the beautiful figure so regally bestowing the little kiss. His mouth feels dry and he just wants to be at breakfast with his friend already.

                Sensing his memory in some cosmic act of omnipotence again, Comet whips her face to Keith and Keith blanches, remembering Romelle. “Uh.” He says, cat still outstretched and completely content dangling from Keith’s two hands, “Here’s Red, then. I actually have somewhere to be.”

                “Oh, shit.” The man says for the second time, patting Comet as he stands fully once more and cradling Red in his beautiful hands. He looks down at their leashes, a little tangled, and huffs a laugh before Keith can even assess them. “One sec.” He starts tossing Red between his two hands gently, unwinding the two cords from one another in just a moment or two, and Keith can’t believe the complacency within this cat. “If this were my other cat, Blue, she’d have a total hissy over me trying to jostle her so much. Too much of a lady to be manhandled, you know? My beautiful little duchess.”

                Keith doesn’t think he’s actually supposed to answer that, so he doesn’t, but the man’s eyes reach him unexpectedly and he flounders. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I’ve never seen a cat that content.” He can feel Comet tugging at her leash now, probably sensing Romelle’s annoyance or creating a telepathic connection with her or similar. “Most other cats I’ve met just sort of rip my hand up.”

                The man makes a soft _tsk_ of a noise that Keith thinks is annoying but beautiful, and he lets Red perch onto his shoulder again. “Oh, Mr. I-Slam-Into-Innocent-Park-Goers is too rough with cats? Shocker.” The teasing bites a little but his smile hasn’t left, “She’s just got that floppy cat gene, though. She’ll get all excited when the squirrels start showing up. That’s why I try to cut these walks out early.” From deep in the pockets of his sweatpants, he retrieves a smartphone and lets it illuminate brightly in the foggy park. “Early like right now.” He huffs a laugh and turns to Keith’s impatient dog who is tugging desperately at her leash, “See you later, Comet! I would die for you!” And he’s off, not quite jogging but not quite slow enough for Keith’s brain to fully comprehend all the information that was just jammed into him.

                “UH.” Keith says loudly, jerking forward a few steps when the man steps around him and Comet drags at the leash again. “I’m Keith!”

                The man turns again and Keith can feel color wash his face entirely at his surprised blink. A little shyly, the thin beautiful hand he had used to pet Comet so lovingly raises to wave at Keith. “Lance.” He says, not a beat passing before he’s back to speed walking.

                Keith practically sprints with Comet, who loves it, to reach the other side of the park where Romelle waits on a bench with her selection of dogs for the day in different states of lounging around her. They’re encased in a bouquet of leashes in her grip that she handles with absolute grace. “If you keep taking so long I’m not going to eat breakfast with you before work.” A terrier nips at his ankle and Comet nudges it away almost maternally. Romelle’s hard eyes find Keith’s flustered face and he tries to hope she’ll mistake it for the run but knows he isn’t that lucky. “If you were going to show your dog off to somebody you could have at least told me to go get us a table instead of making me wait.” She stands powerfully and the dogs accompanying her, all familiar, circle her almost methodically. Some make brave attempts at her cross-body bag that she thwarts and they begin walking out of the west archway to the park.

                “Why do you assume it’s Comet I was showing off? You don’t even know what I was doing.” Keith says with a darkness, glancing up as the fog seems to be clearing in the morning air.

                Romelle thrusts out her free hand for Comet’s leash, and Keith relinquishes it while trying not to be a baby about wanting to walk her the rest of the way at least until they’re done with their food. “Comet is the only boon in your inventory unless you are standing directly beside Takashi.” While they cross the street, she gracefully segues, “I saw a man walking a cat while you were running late. I thought only instagramers did that.”

                Keith flushes immediately at the thought of Lance and hates that he does, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Ask Allura if there’s benefits to walking cats.” He mumbles, thinking of their shared vet, “I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

                “Mm. I think it was a man who works with Allura, anyway, so he probably knows what he’s doing. Hard to tell when they’re outside the office. Also, you’re not on Instagram. So, you wouldn’t.”

 

.

 

                “Do you ever think about taking Mouseketeer for a walk?” Keith asks Shiro no less than two hours later when he’s lifting a tire.

                Shiro looks at Keith like he has fangs and yellow eyes, and Keith rolls his eyes because it isn’t actually so absurd of a question. “Mouseketeer isn’t an outdoor cat?” He says it like it’s a question and Keith knows the question is whether or not Keith is lucid. Keith rolls the tire to him and hefts another one up.

                “Yeah, but I mean, I hear people still do.” He rolls the second tire as soon as Shiro’s ready and leans on the rack of their assortment while he thinks of whether he’s even been approached by this idea in his life before this morning, “I think they make specialty harnesses.” He wonders if Red’s harness had been cat-specific or made for small dogs.

                “Do _you_ want to walk Mouseketeer?” His brother laughs, easily lifting his second caught tire and slotting it into place. “Be my guest, if you want to try. He’s a lazybones these days. I feel like I’m buying new toys every other week! Just two bats and he’s back to his napping.” The domestic complaints aren’t exactly what Keith signed up for by broaching the subject, but he’s not going to cut off his brother’s cat talk so soon, so Keith approaches the car they’re working on to nab the other tire and make their work quicker.

 

..

 

                Late night walks with Comet are Keith’s favorite because she always seems like she has so much love and energy to expel when Keith gets back from his second job, and it’s a thrill for both of them to wander around a quiet park and drink in the stillness of it all. He lets her jog ahead, trotting to keep up, and he can never stop a grin from pulling at the corners of his lips.

                She’s set a faster pace tonight, though, and something in the back of Keith’s mind wonders if she got enough of a walk this morning to still want to run around so much or if Romelle had to cut something short. He contemplates cutting her off, jerking her back and making his night one of whining and pouty omnipotent dog, but she gets to her point by barking sharply and bringing to Keith’s attention a cry of, “Oh, shit!” from not fifty feet away.

                From around the curve of a tree, a skinny body clad in not enough layers for the weather and wearing an absolutely terrified expression haunts at Keith from the distance, lit ominously under a lamp post near him. His eyes are wide, almost frantic, and Comet barks again and forces his back into the bark behind him. Keith halts their running abruptly, unsure of what on Earth is going on. “Lance?” He asks dumbly and dimly, aware that its very dark and he might not have the best visuals. It’s been days, maybe even a week since they’d met and it was probably even a stretch to assume he remembered him, let alone wouldn’t be freaked out by his dog charging him in the middle of the night. Unable to help himself at Lance’s thin shoulders sagging but worried expression not waning, Keith asks, “Are you alright?”

                “Um. Comet and Keith—Yeah, it was Keith. Uh. I’m good. You just scared me, dude.” He looks up into the tree, removing himself from the trunk again and spinning around it, and even with the short distance between them and in the soft light of the lamppost Keith catches the motion of him worrying his lip. “Just got a pickle.”

                Keith, knowing Lance is less terrified and more worried at least, approaches with a wary Comet and tries to peer into the tree where Lance is looking. It’s pitch nothingness, a mass of dark leaves and maybe some discernable branches, but nothing sticks out in the night and Keith wonders what could have been so important to be stuck in there. “What’s the pickle?” He asks, feeling a fool.

                “Uh.” He’s stammering a lot and Keith feels a little bad because he really does just look very nervous. When he lifts his hand from his side Keith watches the bounce of the cord around his thin wrist and Lance swallows while he points. A reflective gaze turns to them when he makes a soft little _tch-tch-tch_ sound. “I’ve got an angel up there’s my pickle. I don’t know what to do. I was going to climb up but I don’t want the leash to get too tangled in the branches and risk getting her hurt if she spooks when I’m up there.” He puts his hands to his cheeks a second and Keith jolts a little at the image, a protectiveness in him surging unnaturally quick at his distress and obvious tire.

                “Um. Is that Red? I’ll just get up there.” Keith says before he can even blink, wanting to wipe the stress off of the beautiful man’s face.

                Lance blinks and worries his lips again, sighing. “No, she’s my friend’s. That little troublemaker up there is Rover.” He stares into the tree at the reflective eyes, willing them down with no avail, but Keith thinks they would work if they had been turned to him without a doubt. Quietly, as if he doesn’t realize he’s talking, Lance confesses, “I call her Rose because I think Rover is a stupid name for a cat. Sorry, beautiful.” He’s definitely talking only to the cat but Keith feels himself flush. Comet rubs at his calf and whines softly. “Don’t tell my friend I said that. She’s out of town visiting her brother so I said me and my roommate would keep an eye on her cat and her apartment. And now Rose is in a tree.”

                If Keith listens hard enough, he’s pretty sure he can hear distant purrs. Decided, he unhooks Comet’s leash from his hand and offers it to Lance gently, who blinks at it in surprise. “Comet, sit. Stay.” He says mindlessly, smiling as she follows the actions immediately at Lance’s side, “Good girl. I’m going to get the cat for you, just stay down here in case she falls or something, but I’ll go slow, okay?”

                Lance swallows loudly, his grip firm on Comet’s leash handle. “Okay. This is just like in _Incredibles_. Are you actually supposed to call people when cats get stuck in trees? It felt stupid to.”

                “Don’t know who you’d call.” Keith hefts himself onto the tree’s lowest branch and makes a kissy noise when Comet seems to squirm. “Stay. Give her pets, Lance?” Lance abides automatically and Keith’s heart swells when he glances to catch it, pulling on another branch. “How long have you been here waiting for her to come down?”

                There’s a silence that lets Keith get through half the tree, and he wonders why Lance lets his leashes so long when cats are obviously so crafty and unique as walking companions. When he finally glances down to make sure nothing’s wrong, Lance glances away very quickly and shrugs. “I don’t know, like, three hours.”

                Keith feels a hand slip on the branch he’s holding, hearing the leaves shake as he misses it and Lance hiss his name almost frantically. He rights himself automatically, still gripping the tree with three other limbs, and he gives another reassuring kissy noise to his beautiful husky, who he is sure is losing her mind if her soft whines are any indication of her state. “I’m alright, girl. I’ll be right back.” He tries to imitate the soft noise Lance had made earlier to catch the cat’s attention, having lost sight of it exactly in the dark leaves, but Lance makes the noise loudly for him when he realizes what he’s doing. The eyes glow a few feet above him, and Keith thinks it’s not too much of a haul even for all the brownie points he might have just won for the beautiful man. “Why didn’t you call somebody earlier?” Keith remembers as he very slowly pulls himself onto the same branch as a lounging brown cat.

                “I told you,” Lance bemoans, and Keith feels bad for him for a lot of reasons but he’s sure there’s _somebody_ he could have called, “Who are you supposed to call for this?”

                “I don’t know.” Keith grouches, scooting forward on his branch uncomfortably to try and coax the brown cat forward. She bats at Keith’s hand the second it’s too close to her. Shitty of her. “A friend? Didn’t you say you have a roommate?”

                “It seemed dumb…” Keith wonders how he can even hear such a small admission, but he doesn’t want to waste time on it, scooping forward when he realizes the cat’s going to be uncooperative and wrestling her into his arms. He hears Lance call his name in a tentative, small voice, and his poor husky angel’s whines getting louder, but he’s pushing himself against the trunk of the tree and ignoring the scratches deep in his arm and the demon cat from which they came instead of being reassuring. His descent is much less graceful than his slow climb had been, with his grappling with the wild creature in his arms, and when he slips onto another branch the cat’s leash snags and hefts in the harness and he freezes as Lance says his name in a panic again.

                “It’s fine.” Keith says because as deep as all these claw marks are and as many little pinprick holes have arrived in his shirt, his grip on the cat is firm enough he’s confident, even if this cat may never trust him if he should ever see it again. “I’m going to unclip, you just rip the leash down from your side so you have something to clip her back into when I’m down, okay?”

                He can see Lance barely from his height above him, and Comet has given up staying put to circle obviously around Lance’s knees, tangling up her own leash and readying to trip him in waiting for Keith. “Be careful.” Lance says dubiously, eyes boring into the very spot Keith is sitting as if he’s some sort of pair of reflective eyes as well. He’s worrying his lip again.

                “Yup.” Keith says shortly, unclipping the cat and keeping his grip firm, mentally apologizing for the manhandling. He hears the immediate sound of line zipping through the air and knows Lance is frantically drawing the too long leash back to himself through the small tangle. Keith takes a risk, knowing it’s not far, and when he’s just a few branches after the start of his climb he just takes the full jump for it.

                “DON’T!” Lance screams just a half second too late, Keith’s feet already finding impact on the soft grass. He wobbles a little but he’s fine, and Comet’s at his side immediately, thankfully not jumping to scare the poor hissing and spitting cat but leaning against Keith with a steadfast loyalty while whining as loud as possible. “Oh, shit, why would you do that! That was terrifying!” The last bit of the leash smacks Lance in the face as he yanks at it from the tree, and he flinches, but he’s at Keith’s side in an instant, shortening the length he gives the kitty considerably and clipping it back onto her harness. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Kitty Rose.” He says sweetly, delightfully, into Keith’s chest where the cat is making unpleasant noises. Keith doesn’t want to dump her into Lance’s thin arms because he doesn’t want them to get hurt, but when they encircle the brown ball of hissing it immediately seems to calm, and Keith can’t help but feel the offense. Lance admonishes quietly, “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

                “Get a shorter leash.” Keith blurts, arms dropping and letting himself crouch so Comet can lick her way all over his face. She’s earned it, at least, it’s a rite of passage after her stress this evening.

                Lance nods a lot in the next few moments, mumbling a million embarrassed thanks and apologies and other gratitudes as he hands Comet’s leash back over and watches Keith give Comet a treat from his pocket for being so calm and collected the whole time (she wasn’t, but her whining always tugs at Keith’s heartstrings, so what is he supposed to do?). When it gets to the awkward stage where they both straighten and it seems time to part ways, Lance’s gaze flickers down and he gasps out a genuine and dismayed, “Oh, no.”

                Keith looks at his own arms in return. “Oh, I’ll be fine.” He tries to say, not wanting Lance to think he regrets helping him for a second, but Lance is biting his lip again and Keith doesn’t have much else on his mind regarding.

                “Can I…take you home?” They stare at one another, and Lance breathily continues, “Wow, way weirder than I meant it to sound. Uh, to clean up your arms. Some of those look nasty. I’m nearby. With a first aid kit.” He scratches under Rover’s chin, who’s still purring something non-lethal into his arms in complete opposition of what Keith had learned from the cat.

                Keith feels an immediate answer at the tip of his tongue, a resounding agreement and excitement rolling in his stomach for just the prospect of following Lance around at his kind bidding for a little while. Before he can say anything, though, Comet bounds between them, excitably yipping, and Keith wonders if he should regret the treat he bestowed. Lance laughs as Comet jumps up to him, and Keith jolts to reprimand her because she’s trained much better than that, but the sound of Lance’s light laughter continuing even as Rover mewls and twists away from the dog makes all of Keith’s protests die on his lips. “Aw,” Lance coos, scratching Comet behind her ears and cradling Rover just a smidgeon higher in one arm so she doesn’t seem so wary, “Of course you can come. I have a treat at home just for _you_ for being such a perfect, beautiful girl.”

                When Lance crouches a little, Keith feels the need to warn him, but he seems delighted as Comet leans forward to lick his face and encourage his petting. “Yeah.” Keith croaks a little, embarrassment all over his features and somehow adoring this near stranger he’s run into, “If it’s no problem.”

                “Of course not!” He kisses Rover’s head gently between her little ears in-between Comet’s licks and sets the small cat back down, keeping a firm grip on the much shorter leash. “Behave yourself, Rose.” He murmurs as he stands, and Keith watches in fascination as the cat dutifully follows Lance at exactly a foot behind him when he steps away from Keith’s excitable dog.

                “Are you just really good with cats?” Keith finds himself asking, patting Comet’s head as he reels her back in and watching Lance rub his face.

                Lance takes a few steps and trips immediately over the slack in Comet’s leash, still tangled a little near their feet. Keith hastily begins shortening it and sweeps forward to help Lance up, watching as Rover stays at Lance’s ankle even in the disruption. Lance groans on the floor. “Yeah, something like that.” Keith can see his grin peek out from the corner of his hand, still over his face as he rights himself a little and doesn’t notice Keith’s outstretched hand. Comet stands over Lance’s middle and nudges him, and Keith forgets to pull her back as well. “I used to want to be a lion tamer when I was little, but everyone sort of finds out circuses are fucked when they get older. Cat magic never died, though! Did it, kitty?” He gets a cute little baby voice, peeking to look at Rover where he expects her to be and blinking in surprise when Keith is almost completely covering that vision with his offered hand and gentle watching. “Oh, thanks.”

                Their hands meet in another warm hold and Keith is embarrassed by wanting to be familiar with it, but Lance is the first to flush and look away so he can untangle himself from where Comet had earlier made work of weaving around him. “No problem.” Keith manages to say without difficulty.

                When they walk again, Keith can’t help but watch the way Rover remains unaffected by Comet, despite Comet’s obvious attempts at bumping her side and sniffing her. Comet whines when Rover actually steps away from her path at Lance’s ankles, but her leash prevents the cat from getting very far again and Lance breathes a sigh of relief Keith wonders how long he’s been holding.

 

...

 

                When they enter Lance’s apartment, Keith feels like he’s walking through a portal into a cleaner, otherworldly place. It’s pitch black from the entry way but Lance flicks lights on carelessly as he goes down the hallway, tutting softly to himself at small messes he seemed to have forgotten about and smiling sheepishly at Keith when Keith only stands awkwardly at the closed door with Comet at his side.

                “You can unleash her, if you want. She can wander wherever.” When a familiar tabby cat bounds into the room, Lance laughs and greets Red as Keith feels he might any family member, and it’s an immediate warmth spreading in his chest to see. “Uh. I have to feed these guys real quick, is that okay?” He unclips Rover’s leash and she makes quick work of disappearing into a room on the side of the apartment, Lance _tsk_ ing after her fondly.

                “That’s fine.” Keith says quickly, letting go of Comet and petting her when she gives a soft whine.

                The whine seems to remind Lance of something, and he blinks. “Oh! Your treat, Miss Comet.” He brings a sweeping arm across his chest and Comet somehow has the foresight to know exactly where Lance wants her to go despite Keith not having taught her motions like that, his all-knowing dog. Lance follows after her and Keith follows awkwardly after the both of them and they arrive in a spotless kitchen that almost intimidates Keith by the sheer delicacy of it all.

                “My roommate isn’t here, I don’t think. Maybe another time.” Lance says as an afterthought, looking at a set of three big jars on the counter and humming. “Anything you don’t want her to have?”

                Keith wonders why he has dog treats but figures maybe he doesn’t know anything about Lance so it’s not really his ballpark to wonder. Red skitters into the kitchen and Lance glances to smile at her. Slowly after her, a puffy grey cat, a few hairs bigger than Red, finds Keith and begins to wind its way around his ankles. “No, she’s fine.” Keith remembers to say, crouching to pet the fluffy fur and feeling his lips quirk at the immediate purrs he’s granted with. Comet hops to peer over the counter and Lance gently coaxes her down without Keith’s notice, and she receives a homemade biscuit for a great night out.

                “That’s Blue.” Lance says, a smile in his voice, “My little heiress baby angel girl.” Keith can see why he picked the name, bright blue eyes peering at him when he stops his petting. As soon as Lance opens the fridge across the room, Rover finds the kitchen entrance as well, and all the cats mysteriously hop onto stools situated around the island. Lance laughs as he turns, a jar in his hand, and Keith blinks at the display. “You can sit down, I have to watch them while they eat. You want something to drink?”

                Keith watches the cats sit silently while he feels silly taking a seat next to them. Red seems the most impatient, standing on her hind legs to try and get onto the counter itself, but stopping when Lance makes a soft _ut-ut-ut_ sound without looking. Keith feels Comet wind around his dangling legs, and he can’t keep his grin off of his face, feeling strangely at home in such a bizarre situation. Closest beside him is Rover, who begins licking the pads of her paw and digging it into the space behind her ear. At the far counters, Lance pulls out four little plates and a spoon, opening the jar and scooping little portions onto each plate. There’s a hum under his breath and Keith wonders if he knows that he’s doing it, if he knows what he’s doing to him.

                “Water’s fine. What is that?” Keith can’t help himself, wondering if Lance is some squared off rich person who can afford to dedicate time to training his cats and living in spotless kitchens. Comet, with difficulty, shoves her face entirely into Keith’s lap for optimal petting.

                Lance stops himself before the third plate, ceasing his humming, and looks back to the island. He seems to count the cats for a second before blinking at himself and putting the fourth back mindlessly, where he trades it for a glass and starts filling it with water. “Cat food.” His smile is blinding, “I make it myself because I don’t want to pump my princesses with, like, mystery stuff and because I can. Sort of a pain, though.” He hands the glass to Keith after throwing some ice cubes in, caps the jar, and sets two plates in front of Rover and Red. Blue sits calmly, not a hair out of place, and only stares at Lance’s amused look. It lasts a fraction of a moment before he moves again to the fridge, trading one jar for another, and he dishes into the last plate a supposedly different assortment of food. “Blue’s picky so she won’t eat chicken anymore, it’s just not fancy enough.” There’s a sniff in his words and Keith hides his smile behind his glass as he sips.

                “What’s that, then?” Keith nods at Blue’s plate as soon as she begins tearing in, and he’s amazed to find all the cats eating off the plates on the counter but somehow knowing not to hop onto it completely. It’s bizarre to watch, and makes him feel like he’s in a Willy Wonka-esque scene that’s about to come to a head with its strangeness and give him the realization he deserves about himself.

                “ _Quail_.” The cat-lover bemoans, rolling his eyes fondly. “My roommate had a field day when I ordered it, but little Blue loves it so obviously it’s staying.” He sits across from Keith, across from all the cats, and Keith feels very silly suddenly sipping his water.

                Keith watches him rub his arms with interest, wondering if he’s cold in the clean space. “You—You buy quail for your cat? To homemake her food?” He obviously does because he literally just said so, but he nods anyway at Keith’s question, a shy smile on his lips and an embarrassed flush in his cheeks. “Woah.”

                “The treat I gave Comet was homemade, too, but my roommate makes those, I just help. He has a little baby, too, but his little Dandelion is probably with him at his girlfriend’s right now. He is also a cat walker. He makes the treats for the, uh, clinic I work at, and for whenever we have dogs around” There’s a factual tone to Lance’s voice Keith can’t place but he loves listening to him, so he stops petting Comet a moment to cross his arms on the counter and lean forward. The action catches Lance’s eye, who chuckles to himself as he looks at the exposed arms again. “Man, Kitty Rose really got you good. Sorry about that, she’s a little explosive when things don’t go as programmed.”

                Before Keith can assure him it’s fine, Lance stands again and turns, humming thoughtfully and rummaging into a lower cabinet. With him not looking, Keith can see Red out of the corner of his eye walk directly onto the counter and start scarfing down her food much more voraciously despite almost being finished. “One first aid kit, coming up!” Lance sings a little, brandishing it as he stands again. He locks eyes with Red, who continues to eat, and makes a sharp tutting noise in the back of his throat. When she doesn’t move he grumbles and lifts her completely to set her onto her chair, which she takes with no complaint. She’s the first finished, and when she is she mewls pathetically. Under Keith, Comet whines in turn.

                “Sorry I don’t have anything else for Comet, but the treats are super good for them if you’re okay with her having another?” Lance offers, taking Red’s plate like a full-service waiter and kissing her atop her head while she purrs loudly. He sets the first aid kit down while he starts cleaning off the plate, and Keith wonders what kind of abyss he’s in of staring at the man.

                Comet whines repeatedly, like she knows she’s close to tasting goodness again, and Keith chuckles. “Yeah. _One_ more.” The warning is for Comet, who he looks down at to fix a stern gaze, but when he glances up again Lance looks pretty flushed as well when he nods and sets the clean plate to the side. Red curls up on top of the counter and Lance grumbles at her plainly, trying to shoo her with wet flicks of his fingers, which she ignores.

                The second the treat jar is open again, Comet leaves his cradle of Keith’s lap and circles Lance’s legs, yipping and hopping lightly. He sends a gorgeous smile down at Keith’s companion that makes Keith want to look away, and he catches Rover’s critical eye as she finishes her plate as well and sits calmly in waiting. He wonders if they’re trained to be dismissed.

                Blue is the last to finish, chirping at the same time Comet barks when Lance bids, “Speak, angel!” He relinquishes the treat to Comet, who immediately runs to Keith as if ready to show it off despite it being halfway chewed through, and he scoops up the other two plates to give them a wash, too.

                Keith watches in unreserved fascination, unable to help himself while Lance hums again and sets the plates to the side. He reaches into a pantry of some kind beside the fridge, looks directly at cats lined by the counter, and sings, “Now, who wants _duck liver_?” in a breathy sort of excited tune. Keith feels his heart seize when a bag of treats is pulled out for the cats, all of them instantly recognizing it, and they each get one along with a kiss between their ears before respectfully bounding away into the depths of the rest of the dark apartment. Lance chuckles softly when he watches them go, but he jolts and turns to Keith’s blazing stare as Blue’s tail is the last to flick out of view, an embarrassed flush to his cheeks indicating he may have gotten lost in himself a moment. Keith decides he doesn’t want to lose Lance, no matter him being a random stranger or a passerby in the park, because there’s a beautiful light in his eyes that feels like the only thing awakening Keith in fiery, hot licks underneath his skin. He wants to see every inch of him he has to offer and every cat of his he has to introduce. He wants to press him into a wall and ignore Comet’s whines for the briefest of seconds while he kisses him breathless.

                “Oh, shoot, okay, let me see those arms, dude.” Lance hops into the seat Rover had been occupying, shaking his head and pulling the kit across the counter towards himself to pop open and root through. While he pulls out alcohol swabs and a few blue band-aids, a jingling sound enters the kitchen again, and Keith watches as Blue re-enters just as primly as she had left, this time with a toy in her mouth. Absentmindedly, Lance holds his hand out and hunkers towards the ground for Blue to drop it for him, and Keith sees that it’s a mermaid—or, a mer-mouse, he should say, as the top half above the fish tail looks like a standard mouse toy. Lance tosses it and Blue bounds away after it.

                While Keith is unprepared and distracted by watching Lance play with his kittens in his second nature, Lance gently seizes one of his arms and unfolds it from his hunched position on the counter, dragging it closer despite Keith sucking in a sharp breath and murmuring an apology as he goes straight into wiping his alcohol swab down the thin but potent nicks. Beneath the counter, Comet whines again, and Lance drops one of his hands to pet her absentmindedly as well, missing her snout and hitting Keith’s thigh in a firm grip for the most agonizing second of his life before righting himself to his angel’s ears for scratches. When Keith’s wide eyes flick up from his arms to Lance’s face, Lance is completely red and staring at Keith’s arm as he works with an insistence.

                “You’re sweet.” Lance murmurs, and Keith gets embarrassed despite knowing he’s definitely talking in that reassuring tone to his dog. Throwing him off completely, however, Lance continues in that same tone to say, “Thanks again. For helping with Kitty Rose.” Keith flinches when Lance draws his other arm closer towards him to wipe that one down with a fresh swab as well. There’s a tenderness in the way he works, in the way he multitasks, and Keith feels like he’s known him for a lifetime despite it being some possible collective two hours between their two meetings, if even so extensive a time.

                “Thanks.” Keith hears himself mumbling back, heart a strong and irregular echo in his chest. Lance smiles something soft and pulls his hand away from petting Comet—earning a whine but giving a kissy noise in return—and his fingers lightly skim across Keith’s knee as they drag away so he can begin ripping open band-aids. Keith’s left stricken by the pathetically light touch despite thinking just moments earlier about nailing Lance to a wall, and the entire scenario is desperately intimate to him in some way as they sit in Lance’s too-clean kitchen and he hears the sound of Blue returning with her mer-mouse toy. Lance hums as he reaches down to throw it again when she brings it, and Keith asks, “How did you train your cats to be okay with walks?”

                “Hmm.” Lance sounds immediately, not losing his friendliness but making Keith mourn the tender sounds he had been making just a second prior anyway. Carefully, he presses a band-aid down on the deepest of one of Keith’s thin cuts, then another just above it because it’s long. “Some cats like it more than others, but really the trick is to just get them used to the harness.”

Keith waits for Lance to go on, but that seems to be the end of his answer, so he goes on to ask, “Why do you use just that little string leash?” Lance seems to think the question’s funny, because he chuckles, but Keith gives no indication he wasn’t serious.

                Lance runs a thumb across the band-aid he places by Keith’s inner elbow before he answers, shrugging. “Once they get used to the harness and they’re well trained, that’s all they need. I could probably take Red outside without even that string if I wanted, let alone the harness, but I like to at least be able to glance away from her without worrying she’s going to walk off too far and find something interesting I can’t reach. So.” He grumbles something but Keith knows somehow he’s grumbling about Rover. “Blue’s my favorite to walk, but that’s just because the harness looks funny with all of her fluff sticking out. She doesn’t like the string leash, though, so I use a wider, like, actual one when I walk her so she’s comfortable.”

                Keith can’t imagine ever being in so well tune with his cats. He prides himself in being on the same page as Comet most days, who is currently probably readying herself to doze somewhere because Keith’s stopped actively petting or indulging her whining, but he can’t imagine being so well connected to her to think of minute discomforts such as leash preferences and distractions in the park. He can only imagine the commitment needed to understand a creature known for being less friendly or less enthusiastically receptive in comparison to even the most dedicated dog owners, if Mouseketeer is any point of reference to go by. Blue runs back in and Keith leans down this time, but she looks surprised as she dumps the toy into his hand instead of Lance’s, who had only half made it before Keith could beat him. Wordlessly, Keith chucks it in the same direction Lance had been, and Blue trots off all the same.

                Before Keith can even think of a suitable response to all of Lance’s information, mind still reeling at a constant in his very apparent devotion, Lance decides to resurrect the conversation and throw Keith a bone, “Why? Do you have a cat?” Something that might be in Keith’s imagination gleams in Lance’s eye as he flicks his gaze up, moving to finish Keith’s other arm with band-aids, and Keith absorbs as much of that incredible potential to impress him as he can while Comet seems to sense his desperation and leaves to wander the rest of the apartment.

                “I don’t.” Keith blurts first mistakenly, shaking his head quickly when Lance focuses back on the wounds and continuing much faster so Lance looks interested again, “My brother does, though, and I kind of grew up with it. He’s sort of older and a little lazy but I visit a lot and he’s basically both of ours even though he stays with just my brother.” It comes out in a rush, and Keith’s eyes are boring into the manicured nail of Lance’s thumb that is delicately rubbing a soothing circle into an angry looking edge of a scratch, finished with the worst of them but still maintaining contact with Keith through some minor miracle.

                Lance grins as if his disappointment when Keith had almost been cat-less hadn’t been obvious, crooked and bright. “Cool. That’s cool. What’s his name?”

                “Mouseketeer.” Keith forgets to lie, “Because his paws look like Mickey Mouse gloves.” Thankfully, his mouth stops before he can supply that he had chosen the name himself as a vulnerable pre-teen hopped up in Shiro’s Disney phase.

                “AW!” The excitement in Lance’s voice is palpable, and he leans forward on the counter so obviously and interestingly into Keith’s space he can’t help but flush at their position. “Do you have pictures? That sounds adorable.” His fingers are still skimming at Keith’s arms gently, and if Keith were a smarter man he would realize someone feeling for muscles when he saw it, but he was compromised and obliterated entirely by the soft pads of the thin, tan hands.

                Despite the fear of disappointing him suddenly existing in an intensity, Keith admits, “I don’t on my phone, no. Uh.” Lance pouts and puffs his cheeks out, dragging his soft fingers away to tidy up the counter and pick up the band-aid wrappers he had accumulated while tending to Keith’s wounds. At the loss, Keith carries on, “I might be able to find one, wait.” He knows he doesn’t have one, though, so he flounders as he looks away from Lance’s shy little excited smile and at the phone he draws from his pocket.

                Blindly, he texts Shiro the briefest of demands for a picture of Mouseketeer, paws out. The speed in which he gets a reply is disturbing, but he doesn’t want to focus on what Shiro’s wasting his night doing when instead he can flip his phone over and shove the screen directly towards Lance’s face as he stands and jumps at the device. “Oh.” Lance says as if he were startled, and Keith tames a wince from emerging, not wanting to be a weirdo, “Oh, shit, he’s literally adorable. What a perfect boy.” The same soft hands that skimmed Keith’s arms cradle his phone and Lance smiles something warm at the photo Keith could look at for days. “I love him already, god.”

                “He’s great.” Keith nods, happy Lance is happy, “He naps on everyone all the time, he’s super calm. I thought because I’ve never seen someone walk a cat before it would be a cool thing to try and get him active with doing that. Is why I asked.” He wants Comet to come back into the room and whine a few times so Lance has something less awkwardly communicating in his immediate range, but she’s disappeared into the apartment and Keith has no such luck.

                Lance hands the phone back after another moment and busies himself with finishing cleaning the counters. As an afterthought, he grabs a disinfecting wipe from the depths of one of the drawers and starts wiping down where Red had laid and the cats had eaten, shooing Keith’s arms up to get the spot he had leaned against as well. “That sounds like a perfect idea.” He makes a cooing sound at the thought and Keith wonders if it’s just second nature to him to love all endeavors of cats he discovers or if cat walking has a special place in his heart. Blue trots back in and Lance throws the mer-mouse with a jaunty vigor. After he throws away the wipe, he glances at Keith and awkwardly pockets his hands for a moment before offering, “I, uh, have an old harness you can borrow if you want to get him used to wearing one in the meantime.”

                “Cool.” Keith blurts and nods, because it is and he said ‘borrow’ and Keith likes the opportunity to see him again, “You sure?”

                The grin Lance gives is blinding again, and Keith stands carefully to avoid the disinfected counter when Lance nods over his shoulder and begins leading Keith deeper into the apartment. Again, Lance flicks on lights as he goes, though Keith wonders why he doesn’t bother turning any of the ones they leave behind off. They approach a room in the very back of the apartment, just past an intimidatingly-sized kitty condo, and Lance shoulders it open to a bedroom that looks relieving and familiar.

                “Oh.” Keith says plainly, “It’s a mess.”

                “Hey.” Lance immediately gripes, but there’s amusement in his voice, “I keep forgetting laundry day, leave me alone.” He steps over two laundry piles and Keith wonders if a different Lance exists for the kitchen than for the bedroom. Other than the laundry, the bed is rumpled and there’s an overflowing amount of mysterious tubes and products on the two dressers in the room, but Lance is digging through a box he’s pulled from under his bedframe and unaffected by the little messes around him.

                So, Keith has to ask, “Is your whole apartment like this or like your kitchen?”

                His phrasing must have been precise enough, because Lance laughs loudly and procures a cat-sized harness, a little grey and worn looking, from the box he’s digging through. “This. You judgin’ me and my roommate’s cleanliness here, Keith? You who may or may not have a hairbrush?”

                “No.” Keith grumbles, hunching his shoulders as he crosses his arms and leaning his back against the wall beside the doorframe. “I was just wondering.” He jumps as he accidentally shifts the dimmer under his shoulder, the lights in the room winking to half their effect, and Lance stands before Keith can move again.

                “My roommate moonlights as one of those chefs who do the videos on Instagram.” Lance says as he leans forward over Keith’s shoulder but doesn’t actually adjust the dimmer yet. Again with the Instagram. “Where a thirty second video teaches you how to make three different game day appetizers.” Keith’s missing the joke Lance is clearly trying to make because he’s staring directly into Lance’s warm face an inch from his own and he’s rooted to the spot. Something in him feels like molten glass, shifting languidly as he even thinks about Lance’s words or Lance’s movements or _Lance_. “He’s also a blogger, so photography in the kitchen is, like, super important and he would kill me if he came home and it was a mess.”

                “Oh.” Keith says because he’s not really retaining the information but he’s glad to hear it because Lance seems like he’s having fun sharing it. The lights dim just a hair more, though it may be due to Lance’s hand slipping as he leans a little forward again. Keith’s breath tumbles out of him, and Lance presses the harness into the space between his closed arms and his chest.

                In a second’s process, Lance’s eyes seem to dance downwards and take in the arms again before he brightens the light and steps back, clearing his throat. “Yeah. So, that’s why my kitchen looks like it’s made for royalty. We got this apartment basically only because it’s obnoxiously pretty. You’re welcome.”

                Keith blinks, “Thanks?” and looks down at his arms as well to try and find what Lance could have in his retreat. He uncrosses his arms to hold the harness better, and as he moves to cross them again he pauses and wonders, for the briefest and most self-aware of a fraction of time, if he had somehow looked uninviting to Lance’s proximity in that moment. Before he can open his mouth again—a sugary idiocy at the tip of his tongue to invite Lance close again or find a way to get Lance pressed to the bed five feet from them—Comet noses her way into the door and makes a whine at Keith to pay attention to her, probably complete in her taking inventory of all available rooms to explore.

 

....

 

                Keith recovers from his forgetting to ask for Lance’s number by taking pictures of Mouseketeer in the harness every day for the following weeks while he lounges and gets used to it and taking Comet for as many walks as her excitable and energetic heart can stand through Arus Park.

                It’s a long shot, hoping to run into him a third time, but it wasn’t an impossible sounding idea considering it had seemed to be a place they both frequented those first few times and there would be no reason to shake a park routine up. Still, Keith mentally prepares himself for the disappointment as the days drag on, ignoring Romelle’s critical stares when he delivers Comet in the mornings without those opportunities and considering buying into the glamor of an Instagram for the sake of maybe even just seeing some more cat walkers, if that’s where they all were.

                Keith knows that the cat walking isn’t the reason he can’t get Lance out of his head, though, and feels weird and antsy at the thought of the not getting another opportunity. It’s for no reason, it seems, because soon Keith is squinting down at the app store on his phone while he wanders through the park with Comet on his wrist, and Comet unexpectedly sits by a bench they pass and puts a halt in their walk on her own. Keith looks back to her in wonder, pocketing his phone again, but she’s as calm as ever sitting beside bench with a stranger sleeping on it, a book folded over his tilted-back face.

                Curled calmly beside the stranger is a pale, orange cat—“Lance?” The man under the book jumps and rights himself, catching it by the spine as it falls from his face and rubbing his eyes with his wrist hurriedly.

                “Yaw.” He says instead of a real word or answer, blinking into awareness and taking stock around him. He looks up and continues, “Oh, shit, Keith?” and then, much more enthusiastically, “Comet!”

                Comet yips in reply, tugging Keith closer as she nudges her way into Lance’s lap for ear scratches she is bound to have missed. The cat beside Lance stirs, pushing its back against him as it sticks out its legs in a long and extended stretch. “Hello, angel.” Lance hums, a tired smile on his face despite his enthusiasm. He sets the book in his hand aside and Keith notes the cover only to process that it’s a four-dollar romance novel from any local corner store, and something isn’t surprising about the reading choice. When Lance goes in with two hands for his pets and scratches, Comet moves to bury herself in Lance’s lap, and Keith moves the book slightly so there’s room enough on the bench for him to sit beside the cat that begins blinking up at him. “What a pretty girl, oh, it’s so good to see you. I missed you, too. Your daddy should take you on walks more often so we can run into each other, shouldn’t he?” Lance coos the entirety of his expression without breaking eye-contact with Comet or straying an ounce from his baby-talk, and Keith rolls his eyes as he feels his cheeks color.

                The cat sits up to stretch forward in a different pose, something akin to yoga with the weight distribution, and then moves itself to sit directly on Keith’s lap, where he hadn’t previously envisioned it but isn’t entirely unwelcoming, so he makes no moves but to observe it. “We’re out here twice a day, never run into any weirdo cat walkers anymore, do we, Comet?” Comet whines something Keith feels like he should know is denying him, but he smiles.

                Lance glances directly at him finally, and his cooing instead becomes something soft at the sight of Keith and the cat. “That’s Dandelion. He likes you, man, that’s so sweet.” When Lance glances away again he does so with a sort of shy smile that doesn’t begin to hide him scooting closer to Keith on the bench, and Keith feels lighter just in the few moments of seeing him again than he has in the weeks wondering if he would.

                “Cute.” Keith murmurs, belatedly remembering to look away from Lance only a few moments behind schedule. The cat in his lap is purring softly, so he gives him a gentle pet that intensifies that, but he seems on his way to sleep again so Keith doesn’t want to disturb his slumber.

                Under the guise of watching Comet demand attention from the lovely Lance she had sought out so cleverly, Keith lets his eyes drink him in. He’s not wearing sweats this time, which is neither an improvement nor a setback as much as it is an observation. Instead, he’s clad in pale blue scrubs and his upper half is bundled a little unnecessarily in a bulky layered green cargo jacket, the strings drawn tight to curl the hoodie forcefully around the back of his neck in a mock puff, intentional or not. His hair licks in a few different directions, and Keith suddenly remembers what position he had caught him in before they had immediately and easily fallen into soft, tender pet admiring.

                “Hey,” Keith starts confidently, losing that confidence as Lance glances up through his lashes and manages to hide the bags under his eyes just a tad with the angle. Still, Keith soldiers on, “You okay? Not a great place to nap.”

                “Nah.” Lance nods, enthusiasm yielding. Keith’s hands twitch at the response, but Lance hurries to correct it, “Not ‘nah’ as in I’m not okay! ‘Nah’ as in…I know it’s not a great place to sleep.” He lets a laugh spill through his lips, “I’m peachy, just tired, obviously.  Overtime.” The explanation really is enough, because Lance owes Keith nothing, but Keith wants to hear more and makes an inquisitive noise in the back of his throat to try and prompt it. “We have, like, three litters right now at the shelter I work at after clinic hours and litters are a constant-watch type job. I’m not the only one there, but I feel bad leaving when I’ve got all the cat professionalism in me. I want to be useful, you know?”

                The latter admission is definitely not meant for Keith’s ears, as Lance’s nose wrinkles as soon as it leaves his lips and he begins petting Comet with renewed vigor when she gives a low whine at his slowing. Keith doesn’t want to settle on saying something meaningless when he doesn’t know Lance well enough to be very reassuring in this situation, so he musters a smile and tries, “Clinic and a shelter? You’re really trying to meet as many cats as possible.”

                Lance sniffs in indignation, though the soft curve of his lips is not lost to Keith. “I have a _calling_ , wise guy, and its taking care of purring angels.” He levels Comet with a very meaningful look that she seems not to be concerned about, “I make exceptions for very lovely, angelic dogs as well. I also know four absolutely enchanting mice.”

                “Gross.” Keith can’t help himself, “Why are you out walking cats if you’re working so much? It’s not like it’s necessary to their behavior or anything.”

                A thin, tan hand rubs at Lance’s face, and Keith can tell he’s said something wrong despite Lance not pointing a finger directly at his statement. “When your cats get pampered like mine do, and they get used to walks, it feels wrong to break that habit if they’re used to the routine.” He explains it in a very informative way and Keith looks away because he knows this isn’t a very warm and personal Lance he’s speaking to about cats, but rather a factual one who’s speaking to an amateur. “If I _didn’t_ take one of the cats out they’d get too energetic and I’d get three stress pimples overnight worrying if their environment is suitable enough for them if I can’t even provide at the same time as having room in my schedule to spend time with them.” Keith hears him shift and looks back to see Lance searching for his face, but Lance looks away when their eyes meet. “Nevermind. Whatever.”

                “No, I—” Keith doesn’t know at all what Lance might be feeling but it makes sense, “I get it. Routines and behaviors are good for pets, I get that.”

                Lance’s shoulders visibly loosen, and he sighs, smiling down at Comet. “Cool. What do you do to provide for this little beautiful girl here?”

                Keith looks to the beautiful girl in question as he answers. “I work at the garage and hardware store my brother owns.” He tries not to mumble when he says it, shifting a little on the bench, but he makes an effort not to bring Shiro into conversations because somehow it seems like everyone on Earth knows Shiro through some extension or another. On his lap at his shifting, Dandelion makes a soft disrupted chirp and stands again, shoving himself bodily into Keith’s waist.

                Lance blurts, “That’s hot.” It comes out seemingly without his permission, as when Keith whips his face to Lance there’s a dust of red on his cheeks and a shy little smirk being fought down on his lips. He meets Keith’s gaze only to flick his own down to the loudly purring cat. “He wants a hug. Dandelion’s a hugger, and that’s his tell.”

                More insistently, Dandelion shoves his face into Keith’s stomach, loud purrs increasing, and Keith sets Comet’s leash down without fear so he can gently cradle the soft and bulky cat to his chest instead. Before he can really get into the thick of it, Lance snorts, “You call that a hug? Love him like you mean it.” So, Keith tries, letting Dandelion move his shoving his face to Keith’s neck and listening to the cat chirp happily at his gentle squeeze. “Better.” Lance praises, and Keith blinks as Comet trots away from Lance to hop into the small space between Keith and the bench’s armrest. She sprawls herself over Keith’s lap, reading the mood for a nap incorrectly, and Lance laughs as he slides himself closer without a worry, setting one arm around Keith’s back on the bench and suspending the other to linger his hand over Dandelion’s impossibly soft fur.

                When Keith looks hesitantly to Lance’s face, he looks sleepy, and when he finally drops his hand from attempting to pet the content cat to instead find the nap-ready Comet’s ears again, Keith finds it in himself to speak up. “Hey.” He starts gracefully and softly, a mirror of his last opportunity, “Do you want me to walk you home? It’s late, you look beat.”

                Lance slumps forward a fraction, his arm sliding on the bench’s back and his chin finding Keith’s shoulder in a graze of contact. Keith wants to drop the cat frantically so there’s no chance of repeating the events of last time (so there’s no chance Lance doesn’t think Keith isn’t interested in him at this vicinity), but he thinks Lance would be too offended at Dandelion being thrust away to recognize the action for what it is, so he holds steady in his position. Lance turns his face to rest his cheek on Keith’s shoulder instead and says, “Yeah,” but makes no motion to comply with actually getting up. On Keith’s lap, Comet shuffles forward more to try and nose her way a little onto Lance’s legs as well, sprawling as far as she can.

                “Okay.” Keith says because there’s not much else he can, and taking stock of the situation lets him realize Lance could very well fall asleep again right on his shoulder and he would stay steady in his position all night if he needed to for the beautiful and attractive man’s comfort. The mental admission is as embarrassing as it is flustering, but Lance jumps into alertness again when Comet whines loudly, as his petting had slowed on her ears and she was in the position to demand his attention.

                “Oh, shit.” Lance blundered, gently extracting himself from Keith to stand quickly. “Sorry. I’m, like—Jeez, I’m _draping_ myself over you here, my bad.” Keith had no protests while it was happening so he doesn’t pretend to have any while Lance points it out, trying to give a reassuring smile to the man as he gently nudges Comet to coax her off his legs. She whines again and complies, and Keith belatedly catches the end of her leash while Dandelion’s purrs dim and he seems to get the hint that they might be moving, squirming to be set down while Lance brushes off his chest and tugs lightly at his leash in the motions. “Sorry.” Lance says again because Keith hasn’t said anything, and his face is red and he’s averting his gaze disastrously enough to shoot a pang through Keith’s core.

                “It’s fine.” Keith assures, standing to gently set Dandelion down, who weaves his way difficultly through the both of their legs. “I don’t mind. Your place?” Lance’s face paints darker at the short question, but he nods quickly, and Keith steps out of the looping leash Dandelion is creating around his ankles to make their first strides forward while Lance lacks such foresight and simply trips and sprawls forward.

                He groans, but it sounds more exasperated than it does pained, and Keith watches as Comet trots over to his face to lick up the side of his ear and cause his shoulders to tick up. “Does that happen a lot with walking cats?” Keith asks to alleviate Lance’s displeasure, bending to help him because he really does feel bad the man keeps getting knocked over some way or another. Lance nods into the ground before he turns over and stares up at Keith, who feels something important in their position even more than the last two times Keith had helped him but can’t place why this time might be so much more significant and soothing.

                Their hands clasp again so familiarly, and Keith hefts Lance into his personal bubble at the same time Lance lets out a surprised breath and asks, “You realize we’re, like, strangers?” Dandelion mewls beneath them, and Keith drops his hand as if it’s burned him, startled by the question and wondering whether Lance has suddenly realized Keith’s absurd affection and fondness he feels.

                “Yeah.” He can feel Comet nudging between their legs because they’re standing so close, and he glances down when he hears Dandelion’s mewl once more. Against his better judgement, Keith takes a step back and notes the grimace on Lance’s face when he glances up, but they still begin walking together once their legs are fully untangled from the leash and Dandelion seems less intent on making them trip again. He trots along at their pace, not bounding ahead as Comet does or falling behind like Rover had dutifully, and Keith wonders if cats can feel partnership or companionship when positioned in equal powers in a symbiotic relationship.

                Distracted by this, Keith almost misses it when Lance’s gentle hand brushes at his exposed forearm—but he doesn’t, shivering at the touch. “Just feels weird to remember.” Lance says quietly, like he wants Keith to understand he didn’t want to offend him, “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

                Keith feels a breathless affirming sound leave his lips more than he really recognizes that he fully agrees, and Lance carries on much louder as they leave the park, “Your arms healed up nice, huh? Nothing too deep or anything still sore?” Keith wonders if he’s embarrassed, but a look at Lance’s face tells him he definitely is and it jumpstarts something fond and delighted in him.

                He nods to get Lance’s determined and flushed stare off of the side of his face, and Lance whips his face forward to watch Comet bounding ahead still and tugging at her leash. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Keith feels the tips of Lance’s fingers at his arm still anyway, but he certainly has no complaints if he’s going to be making sure, “Great nursing skills you’ve got there.”

                “Why, thank you!” Lance exclaims, a haughty lilt in his voice that seems to be enough to distract him from their miniscule yet ruinous point of contact. Keith bends his elbow so the fingers on his arm will skirt against his palm unintentionally, and Lance flattens his hand almost instantaneously into the touch, where they hover into one another’s palms before curving lightly around each other’s fingers. A pleased whistle of air shoots loudly out of Lance’s nose, and Keith looks across the street so Lance can’t see his smile.

                They walk in that companionable softness, hands pliant in each other’s hold and encouraged by the night and the pets attached to their wrists to find their way home. When Lance yawns loudly, he tries to cup his free hand over his gaping mouth to hide the sound, but Keith stares at him to prepare to ask again if he’s alright. Before he can, Lance waves the same free hand and smiles something bright that finds it way straight to Keith’s chest, asking, “Tell me more about your hardware store?”

                Keith does, and it’s only when they reach Lance’s apartment and Keith drops the tired man off at the door because he’s feeling gentlemanly and successful that he remembers their hands, which Lance squeezes his grip around. “Thanks.” He says in a gentle voice that Keith wants to reassure isn’t necessary because it’s so devastating to hear. Before he can, Lance leans forward and over Comet to press a kiss gently to Keith’s cheek after tugging him to lean down and meet him half the distance. Keith, stunned, sucks a sharp breath in, but Lance’s soft lips leave him so he can lift Dandelion from their feet and he can retreat into his apartment properly. “Goodnight, Keith.” There’s a smugness in his voice Keith knows is well earned but his hand is too cold to register what’s going on and his face is still just slightly turned from the impact. “Goodnight, Comet, stay beautiful.”

                When Keith realizes the door is closing he shakes his head to catch the last inches of Lance’s red face disappearing, and he blurts out a goodnight in return just as the wood seals them apart from one another.

                Keith wakes up the next morning with Comet curled up on his chest and realizes he still doesn’t have Lance’s phone number.

 

.....

 

                Keith makes his Instagram account and endures the ten-minute chuckle-fest Romelle has over it while she tries to pick out good pictures for him to post from his phone. He borrows good angles of Shiro’s million pictures of Mouseketeer and peppers them into his endless photos he’s taken of Comet for himself on a whim, and despite the numbers Romelle seems unsatisfied with the pictures or his phone quality or maybe just the situation itself, so Keith relents and offers to do something in return for her if she just sets up the ridiculous page properly and stops humming in contemplation at his phone.

                “What has you so intrigued about Instagram all of a sudden, anyhow?” She analyzes because she’s in no sense a fool. Keith can’t answer the question without incriminating himself in some way and she’s well aware of that. The same terrier from just weeks ago that Romelle promises is going to be a show dog someday nips at Keith’s ankle in a familiar way, and he grunts nothing in reply, digging into his eggs instead and wondering where else they would go for breakfast if the open-air bistro they bring ten dogs to almost every morning ever decides to tell them to get lost. It probably won’t, the owner and morning baker always seem delighted when they show up with dogs they don’t recognize, but Keith likes to wonder about the permanence of these things. “Curious.” Romelle says because his answer wasn’t actually because it was barely existent, but she follows up with, “Why did you text Takashi in the middle of the night a while ago asking for a very good picture of Mouseketeer with his paws out? The message is in all caps.”

                Keith wants to berate her for looking through his messages but knows he gave permission for the sake of finding more photos Shiro might have sent to him in the past. He feels genuine dismay regarding his decisions ten minutes prior, but musters the strength to explain. “I wanted to show somebody his paws so I could explain his name.”

                Carefully, she glances over his phone screen with a droll look, and Keith picks up his bacon to break a small bit off and look down at Comet, who is staring up at him with deep and imploring eyes. He gives her the smallest nibble, feeling his friend’s displeasure at the action, but the sound of a camera shutter has him pausing before he can voice his right to give Comet any treat he sees fit for her impeccable behavior.

                “Why do you keep your phone volume on, you animal?” She asks, thumbs swiping across his screen to do mysterious work as he squints at her. Comet whines for another bite but he only pets her and turns away, letting her leave a lingering lick to his empty fingers.

                “What are you doing?” He can’t help but ask, eating the last of his bacon so Comet will hopefully realize it’s gone. He knows he sets himself up for this situation every time, his angel’s silent begging amplified twice-fold by his giving in at all, but he can’t resist her. Romelle ignores him, and when her thumbs still she hands him his phone back and obtains her own from her pocket. A few dogs surrounding her get happy at the gesture, ready for treats, but she pays them no mind and doesn’t cave to their disappointment. In just a few seconds, Keith looks down to see his screen has an Instagram notification signaling his new follower, and there’s a like and comment on his newest photo.

                The photo is a dewy morning shot of him feeding bacon to his dog near a brunch table, and he does admit that Romelle has a point in complaining about his phone’s quality, but he is grateful for the help. Before he can express such, she glances at the pale pink watch at her wrist rather than just check the time on her phone and announces, “Okay, then. I hope that’s a good kick starter for your endeavors. I’m going to give you a dog to drop off at Allura’s.”

                “Do the people you walk dogs for know that you eat breakfast with them and pass them off to strangers?” He knows it’s not a request from his friend as she stands and he follows, but he can’t help but wonder how he would react to finding out such behavior if he didn’t know his dog walker so personally.

                She levels him with a very plain look. “I’m not asking you to do my job. I have Bandor’s puppy with me because she needs a shot and I thought the fresh air would be nice for her before the stress of an appointment. Allura knows I’ll be by when I’m done with my route to pick her up, so you can just drop her off there at the front desk.” A little slyly, she offers, “If you want to be huffy about it I’d like to remind you it is almost literally across the street from where you work and what I’m asking you is no trouble at all in exchange for the no trouble favor I also did.”

                Keith nods with an exasperation, looking down at the swarm of dogs at their feet and crouching to give Comet a loving kiss atop her snout in parting. He trades her leash for one Romelle hands him, and the dog at the end is the terrier, which is fantastic. “You have to buy me a muffin if he bites my ankle again.” She scoffs as if the puppy won’t, but it immediately does, and Keith smirks. “Hunk!” He calls to the familiar baker who is delivering plates to a table far from their own.

                Hunk glances over his shoulder when he’s done at the table, not allowing the call of his name from the routine dog bringers to dissuade him from good customer service, and he approaches Romelle and Keith with a warm smile. “What’s up? You guys need anything else before you’re heading out?”

                “A muffin for my friend.” Romelle says it as if the words are an ice cube she’s chewing through, and Hunk nods while smiling down at all the puppies he’s towering over. “He’s agreed to go to the vet to do me a single favor and demands payment.”

                “It really be like that sometimes.” Hunk says mysteriously, a chuckle under his breath as he nods at Keith’s flavor selection and disappears to get it. He’s good to them, knowing they don’t like to go anywhere without the dogs tied to their wrists and waists and they’re as polite as possible to him knowing they can’t bring dogs into the indoor portions of his employment. He returns with two bags and a sheepish smile not a moment later, and he asks, “Keith, buddy, can I ask you a favor, too?”

                “Yeah, of course.” Keith says immediately because he’s surprised the man remembers his name and because he knows his ready agreement will trip Romelle’s impatience. It does, and after handing Hunk two dollars she simply leaves without a goodbye to begin her route with her other dogs. Keith whips his head around to give kissy noises to Comet, who trots after Romelle as per routine without looking back. He’ll see her tonight, anyway.

                “Sorry.” He says when he looks back at Hunk, who has a fond look in his eyes at Keith’s love for his dog apparently. Bandor’s terrier below them nudges and tries to nip and Keith’s ankle again, but he steps away. “What can I do for you?”

                Hunk’s lips pull crooked, and his polite sheepishness would be endearing if it wasn’t simultaneously beginning to put Keith on edge. “Well,” He drawls the sound a little, “Are you going to the vet by the hardware store? Dr. Ofaltea?” Keith nods, and Hunk’s same smile stays in place as he tries to offer both bags over, “My buddy works there and forgot his breakfast! He’s been texting me complaining all morning, so would you do me a delivery favor to get him off my back?” There’s a lilt to the end of the question that leads to a hint of desperation and Keith huffs a laugh through his nose as he takes both bags without question.

                “Sure. Just drop it off?” Bandor’s terrier nips again and Keith realizes he doesn’t know the puppy’s name with a bit of dismay, glancing down at her. She yips up at him softly.

                “Yup! My girlfriend works reception there, so she’ll know to bring it right to him.” Now that the favor’s guaranteed, the frozen sheepishness leaves Hunk’s smile in favor of his usual warmth, and Keith watches in amusement as he gets called again from the distant table. “Thanks so much, man. I’ll owe you one.”

                “Don’t worry about it.” Keith makes sure to say, waving a hand as Hunk is pulled away and making a tutting noise at the dog at his feet hopping around impatiently. “You ready to go?” He says to the pup, who yips again and butts at Keith’s shin.

                Romelle’s right in that the favor isn’t any trouble to Keith, but Bandor’s puppy is a change of pace in comparison to Keith’s walks with Comet or by himself, as the bundle of energy wants to sniff and jump towards everything in sight rather than simply bound and push forward as Keith’s used to. It’s nice to indulge, to an extent, even if it does take a lot longer than the journey usually would. It reminds Keith of his time with Comet when she was just a few months old, just as curious and eager to explore every inch of every street, and he can’t be impatient with that kind of company.

                Much delayed but in admittedly high spirits, Keith eventually arrives at Dr. Ofaltea’s clinic and hopes Shiro will forgive him for being late to work when he makes it across the street someday. There’s nobody in the waiting room, but behind the glass partition at the reception desk is a familiar smiling woman shuffling papers, and Keith finds himself smiling at the idea of Shay being the one Hunk is dating because it’s a small world.

                “Uh,” He says because he remembers he doesn’t know Bandor’s puppy’s name when he reaches the window, “I’m dropping off a trooper for Romelle. And food for someone for Hunk?”

                Shay’s smile turns ten shades warmer at the mention of Hunk, and Keith can’t believe the lack of subtlety. She nudges the glass partition’s sliding opening wider than its fraction and gives Keith a proper greeting while simultaneously checking the computer screen to the side of her desk. “It’s good to see you again, Keith. How’s Comet?”

                Keith, stunned she knows both his and his dog’s name despite how infrequently he needs to stop by outside of Romelle’s visits, blinks. His knowing Shay’s name is excusable by the business of it, by doing favors for Romelle and by her name tag, but Shay knowing his is pure politeness he can’t help but admire. “Good to see you, too. She’s great.” And she is, so there’s not much else to say.

                While watching Shay watch her computer, Keith takes in the way her eyes widen at the screen in a tell-tale _ah-ha_ before she continues, “That’s good to hear. Is that little Quincy you have with you?” Before Keith can admit he has no idea or fake his way through it, Shay gets up from the desk to walk around and exit Keith’s line of view from the glass. Now that she’s gone, he focuses on the shouting he hears in the distance and wants to be curious, but it sounds in good spirits, so he looks down to his puppy to make sure she’s doing alright while Shay emerges properly from a door. “Oh, it is!” She says, excitement not at all faked, “Good to see her, too. Romelle’s going to be by later, right? Thanks for dropping her off.”

                Keith waves a hand to assure it’s no problem, handing over the leash and looking into the bags to confirm which one might be a breakfast and which one is his own muffin. He drops the muffin-less bag onto Shay’s desk through the partition and she nods, drawing Quincy away and cooing about how good of a girl she seems like she’s being while Keith pauses because something feels off. Not a second later, a cat wedges past Shay’s legs and out the door, but Keith drops his bag and catches it out of hot instinct.

                He mourns the muffin on the floor, but is more perplexed by the fact that it’s definitely Rover digging her claws into his arms again to truly notice the loss. Shay’s saying something in thanks to his cat-nabbing skills, but three other figures emerge from the same doorway and Keith is graced with Lance’s presence by sheer luck and cathood once more.

                “Hey.” He says only to Lance, holding Rover out at a distance to prevent any more scratches.

                Lance looks positively delighted as he says Keith’s name, eyes wide and grinning his brightest. At his side, a much shorter figure elbows him and takes the cat before Lance has the chance to bundle it in his own arms. “Actually, this is my cat, but thank you.” The smaller person grouches, and Keith looks to Rover’s owner and by extension Lance’s friend who he cat-sits for.

                “Did you get another dog?” Lance blurts as he sees Quincy on Shay’s leash, “Oh, cool!” He immediately crouches to pet her, something warm and loving on his face that has Keith’s stomach doing somersaults. “Does this little angel get along with Comet? Oh, how old are they?”

                “No,” Shay begins answering for Keith, a laugh in her voice and capturing Lance’s gaze for a fraction of a second before it’s dancing away again at another voice in the symphony.

                “Keith,” Allura says with much more polite surprise, amusement in her tone at the predicament but likely knowing Comet isn’t due for an appointment and she would have heard if Keith had gotten another dog, “What are you doing here?”

                About to answer, Keith gets distracted by another cat appearing, and Lance in turn seems to be affected by the presence of a beautiful white cat with sharp blue eyes. “Oh, well,” Lance exclaims as he scoops it up and steps out of the cluster of workers to be closer to Keith, “Meet Princess, our clinic cat.”

                “She’s beautiful.” Keith breaths, feeling relaxed at being near Lance and knowing a smile is pulling at his lips as they step closer to one another so Keith can pet the cat. Lance nods knowingly and excitably at the praise, as if he was sure Keith would think so, and the way he tilts his head down slightly gives Keith the perfect angle to see his own sharp blue eyes through his lashes again. “Can I get your number?” He takes another half step and feels a muffin squish beneath his feet.

                Allura calls his name again, and Shay explains over a yipping Quincy that Keith was delivering the puppy, which seems to satisfy her enough. Lance’s friend, most prominently, says, “Oh my _god_.” There’s a knowing tire in her voice, and Keith can feel her eyes boring into him and Lance, but he’s distracted by Lance’s pure delight written in his expression, graced in every feature. In Lance’s arms, Princess fixes her gaze on Keith’s throat severely but Keith feels no fear, running a finger gently down her soft fur anyway.

                “Of course.” Lance says, his shy and wobbly smirk appearing again and leaving Keith rooted to the spot, “I thought you’d never ask, Balto.”

 

......

 

                Keith takes a jog to clear his head and curb his enthusiasm that night, Comet ahead leading his way in the short range as they traverse the neighborhoods in the lonely time. Despite the presented solitude, Keith feels an unsettled giddiness in his stomach roiling at the day’s events. He hasn’t texted Lance yet—hasn’t given himself the pleasure of that paradise for lack of an opening and fear of ruining his opportunity—but he’s spent the day knowing the number is in his phone and waiting for him to use it when he’s ready, and he’s wild with that feeling.

                Comet, omnipotent as she is, seems to share his enthusiasm with him in some sense, tugging at her leash with no abandon and almost concerning Keith with her dragging him if he hadn’t been able to keep up with her so well. They match each other pace for pace, though, and wind through the streets until they begin to be unfamiliar, and it’s only then that Keith decides to slow Comet, but she won’t listen.

                He tries his whistles and bids her with calming noises, but she gives whines and huffs and drags him on until their pace for pace becomes complete opposing forces, and she looks so pitiful trying to deny him Keith’s ridden with guilt, so he gently follows her lead despite the unfamiliar territory. As he does, he already vows to not tell Shiro about the adventure, knowing he would think it dumb and reckless, but he can’t help but trust Comet’s instincts because they prove time and time again to be better than this own. Her weaving through the roads is no exception to his trust, as dismayed as Keith is, and when he rounds a corner he stops them with a jolt despite her whine because not fifteen feet from them is Lance bent over and making inquisitive kissy noises to the lower half of a bush.

                Comet whines again, and Lance whips around, chest heaving. Keith takes in the harness (cat-less) pressed to his stomach and the leash he has tangled between his hands. “Weird that this keeps happening.” Is what he says instead of a hello, but Keith can see his eyes are wet and something in his voice is very frayed at the edges and dismayed.

                “Are you okay?” Keith asks seriously, running his gaze over Lance’s frame and approaching slowly. Comet drags against her leash every step, wanting to be closer immediately, but Keith makes their approach as slow and non-threatening as possible because Lance looks like he might spook or something dramatic.

                “Yeah.” Lance says but his voice cracks, “Um, I can’t find Blue.” Comet, as soon as they’re close enough, thankfully has the foresight somehow to not jump as she usually does when enthused by Lance’s presence, but she shoves herself against Lance’s legs to be a sturdy and grounding presence for him. It seems to work at least a little, as Lance gives her a wobbly smile and says, “Hey, beautiful.”

                “How long have you been looking?” Keith reaches forward maybe a little boldly to settle a hand on Lance’s own twisted ones, trying to loosen the leash from them and relieve some tension from his bunched shoulders and posture. “I’ll help you.”

                Lance nods quickly, his hands slackening so Keith can gather the leash from them and secure one of Lance’s softer hands in his own in an attempt to be comforting. “Thanks.” He tries, his voice thick, and Keith shakes his head before he can continue. The free hand Keith isn’t holding, now that it’s missing a leash or harness to grip, curls into the front of his own shirt, and Keith stares down at the scrubs bunching in Lance’s fingers and wonders if he just got off his second job for a refreshing walk to be faced with this problem.

                “How long have you been looking?” Keith asks again, gentler, and he uses the wrist of the hand holding both Comet and Blue’s tangle of leash and harness to tug Lance’s twisting hand away from himself. Immediately, it latches onto Keith’s shirt instead, which wasn’t deliberate but is passable. They drag towards one another, immediate spots of contact Keith notes in his head, but Lance’s eyes are too harried to feel the romantic effects Keith has learned to associate with the proximity to Lance.

                “It doesn’t matter.” Lance mumbles, shoulders slumping. Keith squeezes his hand and Lance’s squeezes at his shirt. “I’ll be out here ‘til I find her so that’s that.”

                It wasn’t the point of the question but Keith can’t contest the argument, so he nods and hovers closer to Lance, a phantom of a hug with one of his arms that Lance responds to by dragging his hand, shirt and all, to Keith’s side. He takes a deep breath from Keith’s neck that Keith feels guilty must be laden with sweat, but Lance is obviously in no mood to make comments on that. Behind him, Comet snuffs at Keith’s hand and shoves her snout entirely into the harness, frantic huffy sounds beginning.

                When Lance pulls back, he does so only to look into his eyes with a deep misery that Keith can tell is looking for empathy, but before Keith can lean forward to capture Lance’s embrace again or reassure him with any kind words, Comet gives a series of low and whiney howls. Lance turns to address them, but Keith jerks into alertness in surprise, his wrist being tugged insistently as Comet begins to tear down the street again. Lance, attached most solidly at Keith’s other hand still, hurries behind without so much of a word of complaint, but he does have the foresight to ask, “What if she spooks her? She’s tracking, right? Is she trained to do that?”

                “She is.” Keith promises, huffing at his angel’s awareness and tumbling down the street at her pull. She slows some when they reach the bend, sniffing and howling lowly once more, and then she’s back to her tugging. “She’s not very good at it,” He admits, softly, “But she is trained.”

                Lance’s grip is bruising. “Okay.” He begins his noises, from the back of his throat and his lips to the kissy sounds he makes, all between calls for his precious and beautiful angel to come to her daddy, and it would be endearing if it wasn’t thick with so much of his potent anxiousness at her absence.

                Keith squeezes back at Lance’s grip, wanting to be reassuring but not knowing the right words, and Comet winds them through alleys at a slowing pace, whining at different pitches all along the way. Keith, for the first time, remembers to thank Comet for her hyper-awareness and her seeming-omnipotence, always a point of interest to him but never a factor he could realize so vital to his day-to-day experience. More than once, she has led him to Lance.

                So, she inevitably leads them to Lance’s cat, howling gently up at a fire escape beside a row of trashcans and leading Lance to scramble to look up and around everywhere. His calls are desperate, and when Keith glances up at the landings to the escape he sees the tracking and reflective eyes of what he hopes is a cat and not a racoon, and he grabs Lance’s shoulders to coax him to look that way as well.

                Lance stills and gently makes a sound in the back of his throat. The eyes above them mewl in return, and Lance bites his lip as they turn away and Keith can see the dark shape descend the escape stairs and start a small journey towards them. Panicked that Lance is going to cry, Keith lowers his hands to rest one on the small of his back and the other to skirt at Lance’s forearm, and Lance glances back at Keith with tremendous difficulty only for a fraction of a second before he’s back to looking at Blue, eyes wet. He stands below where the escape ends, a worried noise humming out of him, and Keith knows, somehow, he doesn’t want Blue to make that jump and wonders how Blue got up there in the first place.

                “Hop on my shoulders.” Keith says because even with the half an inch he has on Lance neither of them will be able to reach the landing of the fire escape where Blue is going to reach the edge. Lance blinks at him again as he cuts his gaze, clearly unwilling to focus his attention anywhere else but at his cat but being confused at the request. “That way, you can reach her and she’ll walk right into your arms.” He explains, “She’ll go to your arms, right?”

                “Yeah.” Lance says immediately, tapping Keith’s arm so he gets on with it. Keith drops the harness in his hands and Comet sits by it as if ready to protect it while Keith squats. Lance’s long legs immediately slip over his shoulders, and given any other circumstance (because Keith is a weak man and Lance is so devastatingly gorgeous) the position would be maybe deliriously compromising, but Keith ignores any thoughts of that in favor of slacking Comet’s leash, clamping strong hands over Lance’s lower thighs to hold him in place, and carefully lifting him in the darkened alley to receive his cat at the end of her runway.

                Blue mewls, as if she had been waiting for them to figure something out, and Lance’s tennis-shoe clad feet knock back to curl awkwardly around Keith’s waist in a gesture Keith is sure isn’t intentional but feels stupidly soft. Lance makes a few more gentle sounds, and Blue chirps in return. When they teeter forward, Keith holds his ground firm and listens for a sign that Lance definitely has Blue secure, which he gets in the man’s deep and shaky exhale. Muffled completely by what Keith assumes to be fur, Lance begins babbling, and Keith gently steps back so he can lower Lance to the ground again.

                Firm on his feet, Lance is hunched slightly and holds Blue tightly to his chest, who mewls a few times but shows no genuine signs of distress or injury. Keith picks up the harness from where Comet has been guarding it and holds it ready for when Lance recovers, though his shoulders are shaking and Keith wonders if he’ll be okay for the night.

                To his surprise, Lance pokes his head up despite the wet tracks on his cheeks and says, “Well, that was a solution I definitely didn’t expect. Don’t _scare me_ , Blue.” His voice is a little reedy, a laugh not quite started or ended but somehow existing in his vocal range, and he licks his lips as his gaze fixes on Keith again. He seems to lose tension in every bit of himself but his arms, which may be growing to annoy Blue more than anything. “Thank you.” He says even though Keith tries to paint every aspect of not needing the gratitude in his expression, “No, really. You’re such a good guy, Keith. You and Comet are like some weird hero duo.”

                Keith doesn’t know what to say, so he settles on untangling the leash with a nod, holding the harness out when its separated enough and petting Comet lovingly and rigorously when he feels like she’s waited quite long enough for her praise. She licks up his face and leans on him enough to send him onto his back in the dirty alley a moment, but he doesn’t mind the brief respite because she really had saved the day for Lance and deserves to indulge herself in the attention.

                When another shape moves in the corner of his eye, Keith sits up again to see Lance kneeling by him, Blue still in his grip but at least safe and secure in her harness once more. Before Keith can think to say anything to his wobbly smile, holding Comet back gently with his arm as she licks at the side of his face some more, Lance barrels forward to press his lips to Keith’s.

                He pulls back just a millisecond later, hours too soon, and Keith chases him with his breath and his body, a surprised noise leaving him with all of his senses of self-preservation. Lance shakes his head, “Sorry, I know that’s a lot. I just. Wow, you’re a great guy. I should have asked.” He’s got a wide-eyed look to him dancing on his red face, as if he’s afraid he’s rambling despite having said so few words, and he continues with a sterner voice, “It just means a lot to me that you would help me get my cat.”

                Wordlessly, Keith’s hand finds the back of Lance’s head, and he draws him in slowly for another kiss, letting their gazes bore into each other fearlessly until Lance’s slips closed when their breaths begin to mingle. Their lips meet again for a much more bruising effect, and it continues heatedly despite Blue’s occasional wiggles between them and Comet’s licks at their chins—right up until the point Keith realizes they’re leaning against a garbage can. He pants into Lance’s mouth that he’ll walk him home again as they part, and Lance readily agrees.

 

.

 

                “Okay, and,” Shiro’s voice is a drawn-out song, watching Lance’s excited face with no withheld amusement. In the small doorway he completely prevents Lance’s line of sight from what he’s obviously arrived to deliver on his way to the airport, but Lance’s excitable grin is present anyway as he leans to try and look over his thick arm. With a flourish, Shiro procures a cat carrier from behind his back and announces to his brother and company, “Please take very good care of Mouseketeer.”

                “You’re dropping him off at a cat resort, so.” Keith says immediately, hiding his smile when Lance shoots him a glare.

                Shiro laughs good-naturedly, and Lance coos as he sticks his fingers through the bars of the carrier. “You brought him in a cage? You absolute coward. I want my harness back.” He huffs, hefting the cage to peer into it lovingly. His voice purrs into it as he walks away from Shiro, which makes him laugh even harder, “Hello, buddy, how was your trip? You excited to hang out for a week?”

                After letting his gaze track Lance’s wandering away with Mouseketeer down the hall, Keith turns to smile at Shiro and wish him good luck on his trip, rolling his eyes at Shiro’s amused look and shutting the door in his brother’s face when his teasing begins. He pads through the apartment to find Lance setting down the carrier gently on the living room floor, and he opens it slowly to give Mouseketeer the necessary time to adjust, not forcing him out despite Keith being able to read on his face how much he wants to scoop up the cat so he curls up in Lance’s arms like every cat inevitably does. From her perch on top of the couch’s arm rest, Red yowls something petulant at the intruder but makes not a single move to actually do anything about his presence.

                “Hush.” Lance says to her without looking, his lips pursed down at the carrier still. He stands, and Keith can tell he’s lost in cat-thoughts but there’s more pressing matters to attend to, like the movie they’d paused or the behavior they’d been engaged in instead of watching the movie.

                Awoken from the commotion at the door despite their best efforts to make the exchange quiet, Comet emerges from the bedroom and sniffs out the carrier, whining when Lance shoos her gently so Mouseketeer’s comfort is prioritized. It’s unnecessary, as the whine seems to draw out the black cat who is so used to Keith’s loving dog already, and Mouseketeer gazes around the room while Lance makes deeply affected sounds of adoration.

                “He’s perfect.” Lance says as he does about every cat, “Watch him, I think I have some dehydrated rabbit ears left in the pantry. I want to give him a warm welcome.” He scurries away with light feet, not wanting to spook the cat, and Keith stares after him plainly.

                “You have what in our pantry?” He asks with more morbid curiosity than he can admit surprise, “Does Hunk know about those?”

                Lance returns with just as much scurrying, a mysterious hand clutching something, and he presses a kiss to Keith’s mouth chastely as he always does when Keith stares at him. “If Hunk’s going to have complaints about my cat stuff he should have started a _long_ time ago.” He croons, kneeling to unwrap and settle something onto the carpet in front of Mouseketeer, who sets a white paw on it experimentally.

                Keith sits down and watches the new temporary addition to their apartment bat at the literal ears for a while, Lance sitting with the cat instead of on the couch with Keith and encouraging him all the way. It takes a while before he finally seems to reach a breakthrough of some sorts and nibbles at the corner of one. The change is instant, and when Mouseketeer is sure to be distracted by gnawing on the treat, Lance smiles a blinding stretch of teeth down at the bundle of fur that makes Keith want to press him into the floor or the couch or even the coffee table.

                “Hey.” Keith says instead because he can. Lance turns the smile straight to him and it does the same funny things to his chest every time. “Want to get back to the movie?”

                With a nod, Lance stands and curls up next to Keith again, a pleasant hum in his throat. “Now, as soon as Red likes him, he’ll feel right at home.” In the corner of his eye, Keith watches Dandelion and Blue race one another down the stretch of hallway and back, balls of energy not aware of their addition yet, or maybe too used to the influx and outflux of animals to notice anymore. As soon as Lance is fully settled against Keith, a drape on him more than a warm body huddled, Comet decides she needs in on the action and hops up beside Lance as well to try and burrow into the comfortable space there. “Aw, hello.” Lance says immediately and pleasantly, eyebrows shooting up as Keith waves Comet off the couch just as quickly as she had arrived.

                Wordlessly, he waits for her to jump down despite her whine, and when she does her tail flicks into Red, who gives a short spurt of a displeased noise that doesn’t quite reach a growl. As soon as they’re clear and Comet curls up in front of the coffee table instead, Keith un-pauses the movie and tries to soften Lance’s critical gaze at Keith’s poor pet adoration by settling his hands on his boyfriend and gently pressing him back into the couch.

                “Oh, shit.” Lance laughs lightly, as if he just remembered what they had been so importantly doing. Red makes the same displeased noise and hops off the armrest, and Keith gets back to work as soon as the movie seems to kick back into place, mouthing delicately at Lance’s throat and hearing his immediately gratifying and breathy sigh in response. His nails rake over Keith’s back, making him shiver despite the shirt preventing contact between the soft pads of Lance’s fingers and Keith’s spine.

                He holds Lance by his waist, thumbs pressing firmly into his hips in a way Keith knows makes Lance squirm, and when Keith bites gently at the junction of Lance’s shoulder he releases another much more breathy laugh that spells complete disaster for the both of them, so Keith moves to kiss Lance completely open-mouthed and filthy. He palms the space between Keith’s shoulder blades as they work into one another, breaths heavy between contact, and when he fists at the shirt Keith can tell Lance wants him to remove it but they’re too engaged for him to really be concerned with getting it off in that very second.

                Something insistent nips at Keith’s toe, but he ignores the sensation without even a thought in favor of sliding his legs to better slot himself between Lance’s. Lance pulls at his shirt again, and Keith can feel a grin fighting at his lips, but before either of them can decide on something coy to say, Lance suddenly yelps and Keith flies to put a foot of space between them at the sound. “Are you okay?” He pants, brows pinching and feeling one of Lance’s legs swing high between his own—thankfully just short of being compromising. Keith swallows and continues because Lance hasn’t answered, “Did I do something?” He leaves the comfort of Lance’s waist to hold his weight on his own, using a free hand to flutter without quite touching the beautiful man below him.

                “No, no,” Lance reassures immediately, voice tender though his expression is confused. Keith settles his palm on Lance’s cheek with that guarantee, patient for an answer that Lance seems to not want to give, “I think someone bit me?”

                Immediately, Keith turns a confused look down the length of the couch, noting Lance’s suspended foot and meeting eyes with Mouseketeer, who perches in the last cushion of the couch they had barely been encroaching on in their antics. “Is it bad?” Keith asks as he sits back, fixing the black cat with the meanest stick eye he can muster because he’s feeling awfully tired of being prevented this grace and he can get away with the look when Lance can’t see his face.

                “No,” Lance says again, squirming against Keith in something that’s perfect for the second before it disappears when he twists to look around him, “It was just like a little pinch. Who was that?” With a scandalized gasp, he answers his own question, _“Mouseketeer!_ ”

                Keith thinks that maybe they can move past this if he scoots the cat off the couch, but Lance is carrying on with some firm disappointment in his voice that’s rousing Comet again. “I gave you a set of rabbit ears, you traitor! This is some host treatment you’ve got, Mr. Meeska Mooska.” Despite knowing they’re condemning themselves as Comet stands and yawns, Keith feels a smile quirk at his lips. He runs a soothing hand down his boyfriend’s side, who only continues, “You better shape up that attitude if we’re going to have a good week here in paradise. Territorial, much?”

                He makes a sharp _tch_ sound, lowering his foot again finally, and Keith looks to him as Comet rounds around the coffee table. Lance has a flat and unamused settlement in his gaze, and Keith leans forward to kiss him softly again, which he only takes a moment to begin returning. His hands bundled at Keith’s shoulders slide down his chest, and he makes a soft and pleased sound when their lips part again.

                “I love you.” Keith says genuinely and without a trace of irony as Comet leaps onto the couch and settles her weight onto what changes from a loving embrace to a friendly dog pile. Keith slinks down Lance’s form as he groans at the weight shoved atop him, and when Keith settles down on Lance’s chest he turns to watch the movie with a jut to his lips.

                “I love you, too.” Lance says with difficulty at the two bodies above him. He runs soft fingers through Keith’s hair, and Keith feels very much a cat under such a soft and loving gaze that flicks to him, but he knows Lance loves each creature just as well as he can, so it’s not like he can mind the soft looks.

                Keith squeezes Lance’s hip, drawing a sharp breath from him. “Don’t pout. Bedroom door latches, at least.” That draws a laugh out of him, which reverberates through Keith’s skull at his proximity to Lance’s chest and makes him feel completely at home.

**Author's Note:**

> I made Lance love cats SO much in this because 1) Pike has a cat tail obviously Lance likes cats 2) boy nyahs 3) people who like cats are automatically hot so obviously I had to create a level of devotion Keith would be helplessly in love with also I'm partially making fun of my girlfriend who gets this fic as a gift and is being roasted like four times over in here my bad love you emme you light up my entire life ♥♥♥
> 
> If you guys wanna talk or if you just wanna know where I'm at you can follow me on [tumblr ♥](https://2towels.tumblr.com/) Thanks for the read and I hope everyone enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it ♥


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